Monday, August 17, 2015

Kickball

Here we are. The 1983/1984 Kickball Champions of Chapel Hill Christian School. We were the 6th graders. The 6th graders were always the champions, but we were almost the first class in history to be champions not once, not twice, but three times. Almost. We almost beat the 6th graders when we were in 4th grade. We almost beat the 6th graders when we were in 5th grade. It came down to the final inning both years, but alas, the 6th graders always win.

Playing kickball was an integral part of my childhood. Not only was it the most important thing in the world at CHCS, but on my block as well. I was the Queen of kickball. Mostly because I was the only girl. We lived on a block where our parents kicked us out of our houses in the morning and except for a brief lunch we weren't allowed to come in until the street lights came on. We very rarely went inside each others house. We found all sorts of things to do- ride bikes, play games, ignore Graham, torture Graham, get Graham in trouble, etc., but my favorite was kickball. Home base was a crack in the road. First base was the corner of my driveway. Second Base was another crack in the road. Third base was the Vandeveer's driveway corner. We picked teams and would play for hours. Time Outs were when a car came and we had to get out of the street. I never was very good in the field. I really can't catch a ball which is why I gravitated to playing soccer. I could kick fairly well and wasn't afraid to steal a base. I honestly have no idea how we decided the game was over and I don't even remember winning or losing. I just remember playing. Eventually we all outgrew playing on the street. Somebody would hit 7th grade and they just wouldn't come out as much and eventually would just quit coming. Even though we all lived on the same block we went to different schools. We started hanging out with out our school friends and doing school activities more. I think I knew we had grown up when one of my friends started to think one of the neighbors was "hot". (You guys can guess who it was- I'm not telling). I never thought about the boys in the neighborhood like that and knowing my friends did made it completely awkward.

I got to relive my kickball days this past weekend at one of my favorite people in the whole world's milestone birthday party. I have to say that adult kickball might be more fun than kickball in the street. We didn't have to listen for our parents to call. We didn't have to watch for cars. And let's just say the beverages were much more fun than water. Although I did find it was even harder to catch a ball with a wine glass in my hand. I finally found a home for the glass. Too bad it was under the electric fence. I had a minor surgical procedure a few weeks ago and couldn't quite give 100% (that is my excuse and I am sticking too it). My team gave me the nickname of Post Op. I am thinking of having it put on the back of a t-shirt. I have to say though that my body does not like kickball as much as it did in 6th grade. Maybe I will just need to play some more to get my game back.